


taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that was real is left behind

by LondonFan



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Amnesia, barlyle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 23:38:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13868421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonFan/pseuds/LondonFan
Summary: Phillip loses his memory after the dreadful fire."As the world comes down him in flames, and as he crashes to the floor, feeling his forehead rip open and seeing the world fading away in front of his eyes, he hears someone call his name.Not someone.Him.That’s all he remembers when the walls don’t hold and he drifts off into unconsciousness."





	taking your breath, stealing your mind, and all that was real is left behind

**Author's Note:**

> Hello guys,  
> I have joined the fandom not too long ago, but I am in Circus dad hell, and I love it here. I felt the urge to write something about them, and I've jotted this down in 30 minutes, it's not beta'd, it's not perfect, the ending might be rushed and English is not my native language, but these idiots give me so much feels that I just needed to get this out.  
> Comments and critique are always welcome!  
> I hope you enjoy this ♥

 

Fire. Smoke. Wooden planks crashing around him, falling to the ground, tearing down his home. _Their_ home. He cannot find her, desperately crying out her name, tasting ash and fire and smoke on his tongue. His eyes burn, he rubs them, it just makes the burning worse. Coughing, he fights his way through the inferno, his lungs aching, gagging for clean air. With every step, he feels weaker, all his energy being drained from his body. It’s so hot. Sweat forms on his forehead. Still no sign of her. As the world comes down him in flames, and as he crashes to the floor, feeling his forehead rip open and seeing the world fading away in front of his eyes, he hears someone call his name.

 

Not  _someone_ .

 

_Him_ .

 

That’s all he remembers when the walls don’t hold and he drifts off into unconsciousness.

 

*

 

He wakes up in a large, white room. Lying on a bed, uncomfortable, white. He coughs. Again. And again. His lungs are burning, he feels as though all of his insides are burning up. He is thirsty. So thirsty. His tongue darts out to lick his chapped lips. A taste of smoke.

 

Fire. A house crashing down on him. 

 

What happened? Where is he?  _Who_ is he?

 

His eyes fall shut again. He dreams of flames. Is this hell?

 

*

  
When he wakes next, a beautiful woman is sitting by his side, her elegant face still lovely even though streaked with tears and her mouth twisted in a painful grimace. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive,” she breathes, her voice like soothing honey for his aching body. She gently grabs his hand, it’s bandaged, careful not to hurt him. He has the feeling he should recognise her. But he doesn’t. How could he, anyway? He doesn’t even recognise himself.

 

*

 

Days go by, the same woman still visits him every day. His conscious phases last longer, now, he is able to stomach water, oh God, so much water, and after three days, even his appetite returns. What does not return, however, is his memory. The doctors said this was normal after hitting your head and being left in fiery smoke for minutes. That doesn’t make it better, though, not knowing who or where or what he is.

 

The woman, Anne, tries to restore his memory. Tells him about himself. Says they were friends and colleagues and even lovers at some point before they had a long talk the day of the fire and broke up. He cannot remember  _why_ they broke up. “You seem like a wonderful lady,” he says with a raspy voice, “why would I leave you?”

 

She just smiles knowingly. “You had your reasons. And I understood.” The reasons she doesn’t name, though, despite his desperate urgings.

 

*

 

He learns that his name is Philip Carlyle, that he once used to be a playwright before deciding to work with P.T. Barnum and his infamous circus troupe, Anne belonging to the latter. Neither the names nor the circus ring any bells. Not even as the whole troupe comes and visits him. He feels he has seen them somewhere, but can’t place them. He has studied their names with Anne’s help, but they are not familiar. However, after they are all gone, Philip is left with happiness and a sense of love and family, and an aching heart that yearns for something. What that is, he also doesn’t know.

 

It’s driving him insane.

 

*

 

A week after the fire, Philip is released from hospital. During this time, he has started to form somewhat of a friendship with Anne, who repeatedly assures him that’s exactly what they are – amazing friends. On the way back to the circus, Philip asks her again what they were talking about, and why they had broken up. Anne still refuses to tell him. “You need to find that out yourself. If I tell you, you will not  _feel_ as if it was your own decision and your own feelings.” 

 

Philips needs to accept this. His legs carry him through the streets of New York, walking on their own, muscle memory leading him to the place he once called home. 

 

They turn a corner, and the first thing Philip sees are ashen ruins of what must have been an impressive building before it was destroyed. “Is this-?” he begins, voice failing him.

  
“Yes,” Anne answers, taking his arm, “this used to be our circus.”

 

“It’s burned to the ground.”

 

“It’s the fire you ran into. You tried to save me,” she tells him. “I was unscathed and had left already, but you didn’t know. So you ran in after me.”

 

Philip nods, remembering their conversation in the hospital. “And our ring master was the one who carried me out of this rubble?”

 

“Correct.”

 

“I still have no memory of him,” Philip admits. He knows his name, P.T. Barnum, but that’s about it. The man himself has not come to visit him in the hospital. Philip doesn’t know if he should be sad about that or not. After all, he has no idea what kind of person that man is. Courageous, for sure, if he really did jump after him into the fire. But other than that? He has no clue.

 

In the ruins he recognises a few of the troupe members who stand around in small groups, chatting away. Philip and Anne join them. He learns that most of them have taken to spending their nights in small hotels, and are already looking out for new jobs. Barnum has apparently not been seen by either of them. They worry. Philip worries too.

 

“What do we do?”, he asks. “Just give up on the whole thing?” Something in him tells him it’s wrong to just say goodbye to the place they allegedly had so much fun. 

 

“What else are we supposed to do?”, Lettie speaks up. She is a bearded woman with a stunning voice, that’s what Philip knows. “We don’t have the money to rebuild the whole thing – and when P.T.’s not here, we don’t have a ring master.”

 

Money. Philip frowns. Something clicks when he remembers Anne’s recollection of who he is. “I was Barnum’s partner, wasn’t I?” A few of the troupe nod. “Which means I must have had some shares.” Another nod, this time from Anne. “What if… we use that money to build our circus up from scratch? Not a building, maybe just a room for rent, a tent, whatever.” Philip doesn’t know why he is doing this, why he so desperately wants to rebuild, he just knows it’s the right thing to do. Maybe this could fill the aching hole in his heart that has not yet been mended for reasons unknown to him.

 

Lettie’s eyes light up. “This might actually work.” The troupe mumbles their agreement, and something akin to hope shows up on their worried faces. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Barnum’s not here. And even though you did take his part when he was overseas, you’re not fit to do that in the state you’re in right now, Phil.” She looks at him with genuine concern, and Philip realises she is right. He doesn’t even know what their show was about – how could he be their leader now, their ring master?

 

No-one says anything for a while.

 

What had been a flicker of hope seems to die again, right here in the middle of the ashen graveyard where their hopes and dreams were buried so suddenly.

 

*

 

Days pass, and Philip’s memories return, but achingly slow and not fully. He remembers bits and pieces, remembers small conversations he’s had with the troupe members, remembers a song, but that’s about it. He sees Barnum’s face for the first time when he flicks through a newspaper which tells all about the “Jenny Lind and P.T. Barnum scandal”, having printed a photo of them kissing. A sour taste rises in Philip’s mouth when he sees the photo, yet he cannot explain why. Looking at Barnum, he still finds he doesn’t recognise him.

 

Still, he has acquired a tent for them, so they at least have a place to sleep and plot their future. Lettie’s found a new job in a tavern where she sings every evening and makes a bit of money that way. Anne cleans rich peoples’ homes. W.D. plays the drums in a different tavern. Philip sells tickets in a nearby theatre. They all have small jobs, but they don’t satisfy them. Not at all. Still, Philip has no recollection of Barnum, and no-one knows where he is.

 

Until one evening, Lettie returns early from her tavern. She’s excited, asks everyone to gather around. “I’ve seen him,” she announces, “in my bar. P.T. He’s still in town.”

 

Excited murmurs rise around them, and Philip’s heart speeds up for some reason. Questions about how he is and if he wishes to return are asked, and Lettie answers them all. “He was quite worn-out,” she reports, “Charity has broken up with him.” 

 

“How sad,” Anne exclaims, “but why?”

 

Lettie reminds them all of the newspaper article with the infamous kiss between the Swedish opera singer and Barnum, and she claims that was one of the reasons Charity broke up with Barnum – even though he had assured her that the kiss was staged and he had no feelings for her. “There was another reason, too,” she says, “but he wouldn’t tell me.” Lettie glances at Philip, her usually so caring, gentle eyes boring into his soul now. Not angrily, not at all. Just – knowingly?

 

“We should go get our Phineas back,” Tom says. “We need him, and he needs us too, by the looks of it. We are a family, aren’t we? We should have each others’ backs!”

 

Everyone agrees wholeheartedly, and so does Philip. In the past few days he’s grown incredibly close to all these people who once were friends, then strangers, and now friends again. He is on great terms with anyone, Anne still being his confidante, and he couldn’t wish for a better life. Though the hole in his heart, well, that’s still there.

 

*

 

The next evening, they all march up to the bar where Lettie performs. When the door swings open, Philip catches sight of a lonely figure sitting in the otherwise empty bar, swirling a tumbler of whiskey around, his shoulders hunched. It’s Barnum, he recognises him from the newspaper. A tingle shoots down his spine. 

 

Tom clears his throat audibly, and Barnum jerks his head up and as he spots his troupe, his face lights up and he smiles, he smiles so brightly that Philip’s heart aches – but in a weirdly good way. Barnum doesn’t say anything, seems to be overwhelmed, but he staggers closer and hugs everyone tightly to his chest, holding back tears of joy and relief. They all return the embrace, happy giggles and sniffles filling the entire room. This reunion sends goosebumps all over Philip’s body, and he cannot help but smile himself. He retreats to the back of the group, feeling that everyone else should be first to welcome their old ring master and friend – he still has no memory of him.

 

But eventually, Barnum stops in front of him. Philip feels Anne’s eyes on him. “Philip,” Barnum whispers with a broken voice. “It’s so good to know you’re alive.” Before Philip can react, strong arms pull him into an embrace as well, and he breathes in  Barnum’s scent and feels his warmth, and millions of thoughts and emotions run through his head and his heart beats, beats,  _beats_ , and all too soon the hug is over. P.T.’s hands remain on his shoulders as he stares at Philip and asks, “Is everything alright?”

 

Philip gulps, nods. “Yes.”

 

“You don’t seem alright.” Worry and concern are clear on Barnum’s face. Anne places a gentle hand on his arm. “He’s lost his memory.”

 

“What, all of it?” Barnum asks, shocked, sad. Philip nods, explaining that only bits and pieces have returned to him, but nothing major. Nothing important.

 

“You don’t even remember me?” Barnum asks, and there is a look on his face Philip cannot quite place. It’s sadness, it’s regret, and it’s something else. He shakes his head.

 

Barnum looks away for a second. “Before the fire, you… you said you wished to talk to me when you and Charity and the girls picked me up at the station. Do you remember about what? Because we never got around to talking.”

 

“No, sorry, still nothing,” Philip grudgingly admits.

 

Something in Barnum’s eyes breaks, and his face falls. Before Philip has a chance to say anything else, Barnum has given his shoulder a last squeeze and turned back to the others, trying to put on a happy face. Philip looks over to Anne, seeking an answer. She just shrugs.

 

This situation leaves Philip wondering, and tingly and he can still feel Barnum’s hand and he doesn’t know why it’s so important to that man to remember him, but he knows there is something unspoken between them, something that was there before the fire but had not been defined yet. Was it a fight? How close friends were they? Philip is left guessing.

 

Not for the first time he curses his memory loss.

 

*

 

Philip watches the troupe and Barnum as they chat and make their way to the new tent. Barnum has a fake smile plastered to his face that doesn’t resemble the bright, genuine smile from the moment they entered the bar at all. Philip trots along behind them, still wondering, still not knowing why his heart aches and aches and just won’t stop, and the question why he broke up with Anne pops into his mind again and he reaches out to her and asks if they broke up because of Barnum and she says yes but nothing more.

 

The feeling of something unspoken doesn’t leave Philip, and the yearning to be embraced by Barnum again comes along and settles down in his heart and doesn’t leave. Philip remembers the little bits about his parents, how they had always treated him as a disappointment (wonderful memory to return, that), and briefly wonders if Barnum and he – no. Barnum is a married man. Philip loves women.

 

Does he?

  
Doubt sneaks into his mind. He did break up with Anne after all.

 

*

 

Later that night, Philip wanders down the stairs that lead to the circus ring. It is impossible for him to find any sleep at all, he feels restless and uncertain, and that haunting look on Barnum’s face just won’t go away. Whenever it pops into his mind, Philip feels a something tug painfully at his heart, almost as if something inside him breaks. And he just cannot understand _why_. Barnum, despite being his boss, is still a stranger to him. And yet, Philip cannot help but feel sorrow whenever he thinks about how sad Barnum had looked.

 

Quietly, Philip makes his way down to the middle of the circus tent – the troupe had been right, no need for a new building. The tent was perfectly fine for their purposes. And he stops dead in his tracks. 

 

P.T. Barnum stands in the centre of the ring, just as a ring master should do. And even though he is alone, he fills the space with his presence alone. Barnum stands with his legs close together, head bent backwards, eyes closed, arms loosely at his side. He doesn’t seem to have heard Philip walk in. He stands quietly in the dark room, only lit by two tiny lamps on the side of the circus ring. They illuminate Barnum in a  mesmerising way, his red coat, his top hat. Barnum breathes slowly, Philip notices as he watches P.T.’s shoulders rise and fall. It’s an  incredible sight, hauntingly beautiful, and again, something tugs at Philip’s heart. He finds himself unable to take a step forward, he just stays where he is, hidden in the shadows under one of the large seat rows where the audience usually sits.

 

And that’s when he hears a quiet sob.

 

The ring master is crying, ever so quietly, ever so secretly. 

 

Why, Philip doesn’t know. The only thing he does know is that he cannot stand watching Barnum like that. So pained, so sad. It’s like the sad look from earlier that day all over again – just worse. 

 

“Barnum,” Philip whispers then, his lips moving on their own accord. 

 

Barnum jolts and turns around to where Philip is standing, a single tear still rolling down his cheek. He breathes fast and heavy, still shook by the unexpected calling of his name. However, just as is his way, he is quick to compose himself and put on that blinding smile. “Philip, what a surprise to see you here. Can’t sleep?”

 

Philip nods, at a loss for words. “Yeah, I came down here to, you know, find some peace and quiet and think about… things.”

  
“We had the same idea then,” Barnum jokes and tries a smirk, but fails horribly. He looks even sadder than before, quickly turning away again. 

 

“Are you alright?” Phillip asks, full well knowing that this is not the case. He doesn’t remember Barnum the way he should, but he can see that crying isn’t something that man would do regularly. Not without a reason.

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” There it is again, that fake smile Phillip had already seen in the bar.

 

“Stop this,” he says, taking a couple of long strides towards the man because his heart tells him to, and remembering Tom’s words that family is there for each other, and maybe because he is a little bit egoistically yearning for another hug, he wraps his arms around Barnum, surprising him with it, and holds him tight just as Barnum did before. 

 

Neither of them says a word, the silence heavy and deep over and around them, so Phillip pulls back eventually, not meeting Barnum’s eyes. But this hadn’t felt wrong. And Barnum is not angry, that much he can tell. 

  
“Thanks,” Barnum whispers almost inaudibly. “I needed that.”

 

“That’s what friends are for,” Phillip tries and manages a lop-sided grin, trying to ignore his heart beating wildly in his chest. Barnum huffs a laugh. Silence once again.

  
They stand so close together now, so close that Philip can feel Barnum’s quick breathing on his face, can see the tears fall again, the glistening, glassy eyes. He follows an impulse when he rises his hand, softly cupping Barnum’s cheek with it, letting his thumb run over the stubbly skin and wiping away a tear – and that’s when it hits him. It’s like an electrical spark jolting through his whole body, and he feels P.T.’s skin so warm and so soft and so  _intense_ under his own finger tips, and he sees those sad, brown eyes, and he  _remembers_ . 

 

“Phin.”

 

It’s a flood of emotions that rushes over him, it’s affection and yearning and fascination and desire and  _love_ ,  and he doesn’t know why it all comes back to him  _now_ , but he just knows it does, and he realises now that, yes, the ring master is the one he ever wanted, ever needed, and he knows now that this  is what he wanted to talk to him about. Before the fire, before the accident. He had spoken to Anne, he remembers their conversation.  Anne, whom he dearly loved – but more like a sister, because he just isn’t wired that way, and because someone else had captured his heart, and he remembers how Anne, perfect Anne, had simply understood and forgiven him.  She had encouraged him to spill his heart to Barnum, even though neither of them were sure if he felt the same way. “But it’s always worth a try, isn’t it?” Phillip has had scruples, because of Charity, but he needed to get it out of his system, needed to say it. And now, he decides, is the right moment to  _finally_ do this. No matter what.

 

B arnum looks up at him at the mention of his nickname. Hope flickers in his eyes.

 

“I remember,” Phillip whispers. “I finally remember.”

 

“You… you remember now? This, the circus, all of it?” Barnum asks, disbelief in his eyes, but the hope is still there, never wavering. He looks at Philip so hopefully that it breaks his heart, and he says, “Yes, yes I do remember,” and Phineas’ lips curl into a genuine, happy smile and Philip cannot help but join in. 

 

“I remember,” he whispers again. “I remember the circus, I remember Anne and Lettie and all the other guys from our family. I remember Charity and your lovely girls, I remember the fire, but most of all – I remember you.”

 

Barnum blinks up at him. 

 

“I remember why I came to this circus in the first place,” Philip continues, because he _does_ , because every single memory he has acquired since that one special evening in the bar just floods his brain now, overwhelming him with emotions both sad and happy. “I remember being fascinated by you, by everyone here, by the _love_ I experienced from every single person who is part of this circus. I remember how it used to be with Anne and my parents and how much she means to me.” He is just rambling at this point, unsure of how to say what he really means to say. Barnum just stares, listening silently. “I remember why I talked to her before the fire. I remember the whole Jenny Lind ordeal where I missed you terribly because you were in Europe and I was left in America without you.” Philip runs his thumb over P.T.’s cheekbone again. “I remember what I wished to talk to you about when you returned.”

 

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” Barnum asks with a raspy voice, eyes still glassy and swimming with tears held back. 

 

Philip feels his own throat burn, his own view starting to blur, and there is a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow away, so he just leans forward and touches his trembling lips to Barnum’s, and his world stops turning for a moment.  It feels like an eternity until Phineas finally, finally moves his lips ever so slightly, returning the kiss, and Phillip’s heart soars and flies and he laughs into the kiss and Barnum joins in and this is all so different from what Phillip had imagined for his life and relationships but it’s simply perfect.

 

It’s overwhelming, having found his memory again, having gathered his courage to just follow his heart and it led him here, to Barnum, to this kiss, and it feels so real and so unreal at the same time and there’s nothing to do but laugh giddily and bury his face in the crook of Barnum’s neck and then pepper his neck with kisses and then be dragged into another proper kiss by the ring master himself,  the two of them being adolescent love birds now, and Phillip chuckles at the hilariousness of the whole  situation . But it is what it is. And what it is – is right.

 

Barnum deepens their kiss, confident now, and Phillip knows that what he is conveying with this are his own feelings. His relief over being able to share them with Phillip, being open about who he loves, not having guilty feelings because of his past, just allowing himself to be happy now. Now, and forever.

 

They part for air, Barnum pressing a kiss to Phillip’s nose and pulling him close, resting his head atop Phillip’s hair. “I’m so glad we had this talk,”  he smirks jokingly.

 

Phillip laughs. “We should talk some more, then.”  He leans up and pecks Barnum’s lips again.  It feels so natural to slip back into this banter, the banter they had before the fire, he remembers. There will be a lot to talk about the next days, he knows that, but they have each other now, and that’s all that counts. Barnum kisses him again. Phillip wonders how it could be that this man could have fallen for him, if this all truly is real, but he lets himself be pulled into the next kiss, tasting and nipping and enjoying, and forgets everything around them. 

 

As his heart slowly comes to a peaceful, comfortable rest when Barnum holds him right there in the middle of their circus, Phillip listening to P.T.’s breathing, he realises that he would have fallen in love with this man even if he hadn’t recovered his memory. Because, well, Phineas is just a loveable person.

 

And he is Phillip’s. 

 

Now and forever.

 

_It’s everything you ever want,_

_It’s everything you ever need,_

_And it’s here right in front of you._

_This is where you want to be._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this fluffly schmoopy thing. :'D  
> Was thinking of doing another part just from P.T.'s point of view... what do you think?


End file.
